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Lacklan · (08-31-2019)

There is an interesting fact which hasn’t been covered much in this company due to the match-types I have been involved in. Eighteen times I have entered an XWF ring, sixteen of them have been in singles competition, once in a triple threat, and once in a War Games. And because of that near-focus experience, a significant fact remains largely undiscussed, though I’m sure I brought it up when I dragged a handful of people into the winner’s circle as an MVP:

I am an excellent tag team wrestler.

Sarah Grey-Lacklan sighs heavily as she feels her weight adjust to the elevator coming to a halt. She groans in momentary pain as the doors open and bright white light hits the sensitive eyes behind her thick glasses. She walks out of the elevator shaft and into the brightly lit hallway of a hospital with a tray in her arms, the silver of the cloche catching in the light of the florescent in the ceiling. She passed by patients in various shapes and sizes, some in wheelchairs and some sitting in beds with wires connecting them to machines, along with many nurses and orderlies in blue and brown. Yet still Sarah was the most striking person in the room, pulling the eyes of everyone she passed by, with her platinum hair and moonlight skin, and an ornate dress of black and red with a train that fell to the ground that was lined with tiny bows. Like an elven queen from the writings of Tolkien and transplanted into the real world, Sarah forces the eyes to linger long after she has passed.

There is just SOMETHING I get about tag wrestling. Now, I don’t say that to boast, though I am sure most of you simpletons will scream out into the high heavens that I am doing so. It is simply an observation. There is just SOMETHING about it that I understand, and certainly nothing I expected when I made my debut for FSociety Wrestling back in January of 2017. Tag team wrestling takes an understanding of give and take, with times where you need to be the alpha and take the lead, and others when you need to sit back, rest, and allow someone else to be point. Tag team wrestling takes timing, both when performing tandem offense and combos, and when and how to break up pinfalls as they occur. Tag team wresting takes communication, both verbal and physical, and an understanding of what is going through your partner’s head.

In my time, I have been blessed with people who have been able to help me establish this tag team dominance. My very first match was intended to be one of those “Shit! We gots too many people on teh card!” clusterfucks, but it got turned into a tag match last minute by a drunkard. And my team won that match. That partner and I would go on to win several tag matches in multiple companies. After that, I found several more successful tag partners, from stablemates to friends to random one-shots with dudes who couldn’t stand me. And outside of very VERY few instances, that has meant absolute victory. In fact...as you all know I enjoy exploring numbers and extrapolating what all that means...I am 24-4 in tag team wrestling.

And unfortunately for you two, dearest Fuzz and Noah, I will be standing in that ring alongside my BEST partner.

Near the end of the hallway, Sarah comes to a stop by room #317, which she had been to far too often, in her opinion. Standing before the door were Bobbi London, the rotund XWF Internet Champion, and Maxine, the stone-faced bodyguard of Roxy Cotton.

“Any hooded men around?”

Sarah’s Londoner accent was raspy and far heavier than normal. As she stands still, her body slumps slightly and her high cheekbones fall a touch. She was tired, inside and out, and it showed in both her body and voice. Maxine shakes her head at the question, but it is Bobbi who speaks up.

“Oi! Nothin’ here. We’ll keep keepin’ watch, though.”

Sarah lets out another deep sigh.

“I appreciate it, as much for Kenzi’s sake as mine. We have enough on our plates as it is without THAT guy.”

She begins to walk forward but then pauses between them. While Bobbi was nowhere near as tall as the statuesque Maxine, the diminutive Sarah still has to crane her neck up to look at the Australian.

“There’s no way the Hooded Man could know about Jacob, right? No way he could know about the attempted rape at that bar? Or the kidnapping that led to the car accident?”

The tray in Sarah’s hands moves up and down as a tremble overtakes her, the cloche banging lightly on the plate underneath. Bobbi looks up at the eyes of Maxine, and the giant woman gives a small shake of her head. Bobbi looks back to Sarah and places one of her large mits on top of Sarah’s, which slowly stops shaking.

“No worries, mate. Probably jus’ coincidence, is all!”

Sarah gives a small nod of her head.

“I’m sure it is. Just...just coincidence.”

She continues on her way through the door and walks into the hospital room, forcing a smile onto her tired face.

“Oh BeLOVEd! I brought-”

“I WANT TO GO HOME!”

Sarah hurries through the curtain at the screamed words. Sitting upright on a reclining bed was Kenzi Grey-Lacklan, the caramel starlet wearing an ill-fitting blue robe, with her right leg in a splint and laid straight in front of her. Her freckled face drawn in anger, her brown eyes fill of fire, she had the television remote in her hand and pulled back as if to throw. Next to her, an older nurse slightly cowered from the verbal assault.

“Kenzi!”

Kenzi turns to face Sarah and her eyes slightly soften, but her face stays firm.

“Babe! Tell them to let us go home! I WANT TO GO HOME!”

Sarah sighs at Kenzi and then turns towards the nurse and gives her a pleasant smile. Not quite her full Billion $$$, but as much as she can muster tonight.

“Je suis profondément désolé, infirmière. My wife is having difficulty taking the doctor’s orders of resting her leg for a day or two...even for a few moments. I appreciate your help.”

The nurse gives Sarah a thankful smile and then turns a scowl to Kenzi.

“I will be back to check on you in the morning.”

Kenzi raises the controller back even further and the nurse quickly scampers from the room. Sarah sighs again as she sets the tray down on the small table in the room.

“Honestly, Beloved, I understand that you are in a sour mood, but the servants need SOME level of decorum, and-”

“Sour mood? SOUR? I’ll show your ASS sour!”

Sarah deftly steps to the side as the remote control flies at her back and it smashes into the wall. She shakes her head and sighs again as the back falls off and the batteries scatter on the ground. She turns around and walks towards the door, shutting it and then pulling the curtain tight to give them a full semblance of privacy. She removes the shall from around her neck, and offers up a little giggle as she sees Kenzi’s eyes immediately fly toward the pale bosom exposed by the bodice of the dress. She walks back over to the table, making sure to add a slight bounce in her step so as to give her chest a pleasant jiggle for Kenzi’s eyes to enjoy, and removes the cloche from the plate. Four chocolate-covered strawberries rest in the center and she holds the tray out before her.

“Happy Anniversary!”

Most of the people in this tournament are thrust together by happenstance, from what I have been able to gather. One of the XWF officials...I don’t remember who...announced a tag tournament and everyone started asking around randomly for partners, like lonely nerds on a Friday night going to their local game shop with a “Looking for Group” request. And even with the silliness of this father business, the two of you are in that same camp. Fuzz is a veteran being honored with a hall of fame ring and Noah is a newcomer from a continent largely removed from the rest of the wrestling world. There have been no matches, no alliances, no interactions in the last five or so months of Noah’s time here to categorize this partnership as anything BUT the randomness of the draw which so many of the others in the tournament have. And that is going to be the undoing of you two.

I get that there are established teams in the field. But...lets face it...they are shit. Salt and Pepper? Various collections of returning “legends” chosen by tossing darts at a board and grouping them together by the squares they land on? They are as screwed as the random pairings of you two and the Lux/Centurion duo. Nothing to hold you together but the tenuous bond of hoping to NOT suck in front of the world and get embarrassed by two wrestlers you have repeatedly called trash. As I mentioned before, sure you got the little feather in the cap of being those two dipshits last time, but that is akin to the pride of dunking on a midget, yes? So hold onto that victory, just as other random pairings much hold onto the “joy” of defeating the likes of the Disintigrators or sideshow clowns like Nelly and Pete, because that is the only joy you are going to find in this tournament.

Kenzi scowls at Sarah after she finally tears her eyes away from her wife’s chest.

“Yeah...happy…”

She crosses her arms over her own chest and turns her scowl to her leg. Sarah keeps the smile on her face and skips over to the bed and places the plate next to Kenzi. She lightly runs her hand across Kenzi’s leg and purrs.

“Well, Mrs. Grey-Lacklan! I didn’t expect you to be dressed so scandalously!”

Kenzi looks back up and turns her scowl into a flat look, which simply makes Sarah giggle in pure delight. She climbs onto the small bed and makes herself comfortable on top of Kenzi, being gentle around her leg, and picks up one of the strawberries.

“Perk up, Beloved. We BOTH know that the doctor only wants you here so that we don’t go and do something stupid. Like beat up a couple of scoundrels. You will be perfectly fine in a day or two.”

She shoots a quick glance at the leg in the splint.

“More or less.”

She takes one of the strawberries into her mouth and licks it seductively.

“We have other things to focus on tonight.”

Kenzi’s mouth falls open but then she shakes her head. But that movement seems to make her eyes cloud over and she has to close them for a moment.

“I...I think those pain killers are starting to kick in.”

Sarah visibly pouts and runs the strawberry down her chin and nestles it into the generous cleavage the bodice provides her. Kenzi stares at the offering for a long moment and sighs.

“You’re a butt.”

Sarah giggles and snuggles closer, just about forcing her chest into Kenzi’s face.

“When I proposed...which it WAS me who proposed, in case you forgot...I promised you a LIFETIME of frustration. I hope you are a satisfied customer!”

Kenzi can’t help but smile as her face finds itself smooshed between two “100% organic all white meat pigeon breasts” and is forced to take the strawberry in her mouth. She laughs as she chews when Sarah finally backs away to give her room to breath.

“Yes, I am! Especially with the marshmallows!”

Sarah’s face turns to confusion.

“...the what?”

Kenzi’s dark eyes begin to glaze over.

“Mmmm...marshmallows…”

Just being kinda-sorta partners is not going to cut it, Fuzz. Yes yes, you guys are all sorts of badass and you look out for each other and you love each other and Maury Povich blah blah blah. But we BOTH know that’s bullshit. YOU have spent an entire career alienating everyone around you to the point where even YOU are shocked that you’re in a tag team, and Noah is so utterly unlikable that even the people jerking off over “CUNT!” have decided to move on like an incel who can’t get it up for the same POV girlfriend experience porn he’s used to. But us? The team you are facing? We are PARTNERS in all things.

As before with my statement of being an excellent tag team wrestler, this isn’t a boast. Its simply a fact. Kenzi and I live together. Eat together. Sleep together. Fuck together. Train together. Wrestle together. She’s the first person to scream out “SHOTGUN!” when I grab the keys, she demands to watch me put in my contacts because the different eye colors fascinate her, and she even eats the crusts of our brownies so that I can have all the soft, yummy parts to myself. Hell, we’ve been on the same freakin’ CYCLE for over TWO YEARS! Just ask Kenzi, she loves talking about it…

The point of all that is that we are partners in a way no one else in this tournament can dream of being. Ever watched ice skating? Pairs or dance? You can FEEL the difference between partners who are just business partners and those who are married. And THAT is how we wrestle. We are more fluid, connected, and TOGETHER than anyone else in this company, not to mention this MATCH. And there is NOTHING that you are going to be able to do to get around that fact. It doesn’t matter how many rings, championships, or awards you personally have, because no matter what, you have to win this thing WITH Noah, and the combination of your inability to play well with others mixed with his lack of skills and composure breeds nothing but failure.

This reminds me, by the way: I’m not one for playing the cut&paste game, right? Not exactly a fan of this company’s history of having NOTHING to say unless I GIVE them something to say, but there ARE two LITTLE things you’ve said recently which I REALLY want to make clear, and one of those things is about your partner:

Did I beat Noah? Really?

Yes.

Yes I did.

Noah fought through three rounds of a tournament to get a shot at a championship to be had on a PPV.

And I beat him clean in the middle of the ring after the Abyss.

So yes. Yes, I beat him. Really. And he can cry and moan and bitch all he wants about not “trying” or losing “on purpose” everyone knows better: That’s just a shitty excuse from a shit person who can’t deal with the fact that his own skills ended up being nothing but shit when he finally got in the ring with the person he wanted to shut up. Nothing anyone can do or so is going to change that.

And that second thing? You little jest when playing with Kenzi online the other day about me and my participation? Where you parroted Noah’s shitty narrative of how little I axly do around here? Let me make this plain and clear for everyone in the company, from lowly Drezdin to mighty Main:

Six months.

Eighteen matches.

Thirty-five promotion videos, including this one.

According to those nerds over at Cool Rankings, just south of 100,000 words spoken by me.

For THIS fed.

There is NOT ONE person in this company who can say that. Not Tony. Not Wish. Not Main. MAYBE Corey. MAYBE.

Certainly not YOU and your FOUR matches in three months. I bring truth to the lie of Noah being the “Hardest Worker” with a history of dynamic DOMINANCE with a difference in opponents, style, and weight.

So go put your pathetic random “PLEASE NO ONE CALL ME OUT ON THIS” insults up your ass and keep reaching.

But hey, this is a business which has left you and your brethren far behind. I mean, shit, you can’t even pay attention to the fact that the “television star” and “LFL quarterback” you relegated Kenzi to is actually, literally right this second, a tag team CHAMPION who has won six...SIX...tag team championship matches in the last six months.

So we’re clear: Kenzi has won more championship matches this year than you have had MATCHES.

So when you and Noah end up in the lockeroom, sitting in chairs, lathered in sweat, you heads hung low and your eyes full of questions, you will KNOW why you lost. You will know WHY the 5'2" Mafia went on to win the tournament. You will know WHY I am YOUR Anarchy Champion.

But hey, maybe you guys can feel better about taking your Ls by being a part of the "I SHOULD HAVE WON!" circle jerk in the back?

Kenzi’s face falls heavily into Sarah’s chest. Sarah sighs as she immediately feels the warmth of drool on her flesh, a typical sign of Kenzi being in a deep sleep, and then gently pushes her away. She positions the caramel-skinned woman onto her left side, as she usually slept, and made sure her pillow was fluffed and supporting her neck. Sarah then positions herself behind her so that her chest and stomach were pressed tightly against Kenzi’s back, the two of them barely fitting on the bed. Kenzi’s hands naturally latch onto Sarah’s arm as she lays it atop her side and holds her close.

“Happy Anniversary, Mackenzie Michaela Grey-Lacklan. You are my everything.”

With her free hand, she removes her glasses and sets them on the side table, resettles herself snugly against Kenzi’s back, and drifts to sleep.

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